SOMEWHERE IN MY DREAMS

SOMEWHERE IN MY DREAMS

In my dreams there lies the poem,
left unwritten and unread;
The pen and paper lay there unused
on the stand beside my bed.

It seems that my imagination
does best while I am fast asleep;
the memories of the perfect words
are just not mine to keep.

In the morning when I awake
to the sound of birds outside
The dream I had soon vanishes,
and all memory is defied.

Yet bits and pieces come back,
though not all as it seems;
The perfect poem, unwritten -
lies somewhere in my dreams.

Countrymom
9/5/04

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